Well Rebecca,
You certainly have always had a lust for life. I often think that your family has been very blessed with this distinction, more so than even those that do too. What does Jenkins mean in the form of words and surnames I wonder? Yes, the business according to Bruce, and he’s been saying so for a few years now, is in a race to the bottom. During which time I have been struggling, and every year getting worse for the last three years, even though I’ve been luckier than others. I’ve reached the point as of the last eight months without work, not counting the miserable six days i worked on a TV pilot that was absolutely awful, sort of like first being a glorified whore to suddenly working the slums of Calcutta (not a realistic comparison but the demise is still there), well I reached the point of no return financially, and my only reasonable option which coincided with the recession of 08/09 was to sell this house at the worst time, lost lot’s but found a way out in the short term. A few weeks ago I was offered a 5 week gig at the same pay I was making when Sadie was born. I said no, I’m checking out of crazy town. My self esteem, my self confidence, and my health of mind and body have suffered too. However this original quest of Scott’s has given me hope. And the timing of me riding again and Scott’s unwavering drive to do what is on his mind has given me the strength to endure what I’m sure would have ended in a long and painful demise otherwise. Sometimes even today I wonder will it be enough, though that question will not be answered for some time. For now I’m just concentrating my efforts on preparing, which is a tremendous amount of work. The cat is out of the bag, so more and more people ask me this and at the same time comment, “You’re going to have such a tremendous experience”. And that comment alone makes me whither with anxiety and lapsed depression, ‘Is it I think?’, but I smile and say sheepishly, “Yeah . . . “. This I do know though, the work involved, and when I say work I mean just like the work of raising a child or animals or hockey or camping or writing or therapy or whatever, that work, that work is what I need right now to get myself out of the funk I’m in which feels a lot like death. Currently my house is in boxes, my friends call but I don’t go out much, I eat out for every meal but breakfast which is a bowl of cereal and I constantly work on the plans and details of a seemingly endless trip that will end, but I don’t believe it now since I haven’t even started. After it’s done, I’ll be living with my Mum and Wally and animals which is nice, and my brother, new son and Linh will be close by when I get back. I’ll be closer to Sadie, and within my original film community if there is any place for me when I get back. My alternate plan is to be a cab driver, or some other job where I can have some sort of control over my own work. I don’t know really, and that’s pretty scary. The fortunate reality is that I do know this, and therefore plan to put myself through no absolute control of my own or anyone else’s fate, to become stronger for the inevitable reality and humbler from what wisdom I will have gained. I worry too much anyway, and need to shake up my little world that is quite lonesome for I’ve lost my love for writing, reading and definitely anything to do with the modern world, until of course my bike breaks down and I need modern communication, electricity and fuel etcetera etcetera. This feels a lot like the time I graduated from high school in Edmonton, and packed my car to head for Vancouver to get away from what I knew was to be a long way down. That feeling is overwhelming, like I’m trapped and I have no way out except to run like all my other mammal friends do. Whoa, maybe I do want to write again. Speaking of which, I threw out all my scripts and video tapes of the films, and a lot of other stuff I deemed as history like old stuff I don’t need to carry and even shreded all my paper work up to 08. On a lighter note, I had a great day at a good man’s shop, Jim Struke. His home is in the country near Kitchener surrounded by rolling hills, a few cars, motorcycles, dog named Pip and his wife, can’t remember her name at the moment (had one of those moments when I was just listening instead of listening), and his shop. He raced bikes for many many years and his entire garage was covered with trophy’s, posters/pictures and plaques of him and his wife’s achievements as racers. He worked on my bike for five plus hours showing me all sorts of things while having good’ol casual conversations about life, and me throwing the frisbee for Pip, the 11 month old Shepherd/Lab mix. Jim is the kind of man who I would characterize as being much like Bruce, another of my mentors for being patient, wise, understanding and even has an earnest ear for others. Anyway, it was a nice day and I learned a lot, like how to get the frisbee off the roof of the shop not once but twice. It was very windy today. No but seriously, I learned a lot, and Jim has a way which is most appealing to me, a way to suggest something without it being a suggestion, most respectable indeed. There is so much to learn from people, another great reason to travel on a bike when one feels the need to learn. Yes Rebecca, the day is a coming. It’s funny but only a couple of people have asked me this and Jim’s wife did too for the 45 minutes after we finished up and she arrived home from work; “How does your daughter feel about you going on this trip?” And I said, “It’s funny, she mostly wants to know where I’m going to be after I’ve sold my house and been on the trip. She doesn’t ask much at all about anything else, which is kind of a good feeling for she trusts me to return or maybe she simply just wants to know how her crazy father is going to live after he returns. And for the most part she seems satisfied with the answer for me to return to my family in Calgary”. Actually it’s probably so foreign to her at 13 as it is for my at 43, but my feeling is she’ll start to get excited after I’ve been gone and have started posting pictures and stories on my blog, just like me I suppose. Well Rebecca, I’ve had a good day hence all the words. I don’t know how I used to write letters of this length, in perfect hand writing, and even starting over after a complete page because of a mistake. Yes I take back what I said about modern times, but you know what I mean.
TheRideThroughCowboyMountain
Markus
PS I know our situations are both different and the same, and I too like to watch the birds and all their colours. I have Northern Cardinals that nest here all year and the Blue Jays are back in the hood and I’ve even seen some small Finch like birds for the first time, and this morning I watched a proud House Bird carry some new, dried, soft nesting material to it’s nest. They are inspiring all busy and stuff and seemingly always happy. Maybe you are a bird you Jenkins clan. I’m tired, even though I only rode 3 hours there and back the six lanes are the worst. They really are a direct example of every day life in the worst sort of ways; debris everywhere, people yelling in cell phones, cars speeding along from lane to lane, braking, speeding up, and moments waiting to be afflicted. I much prefer the two lanes vibe, with the animals that occasionaly ruin a day for us both. Did I ever tell you about the Buzzard that nearly hit me on may through Idaho? It came so close that I could see the red in it’s eye and my only two words were “HOly Fuck!”. And then after I realised only that if it would have hit me I would have been knocked off the bike at 120k. Crazy birds. I found birds were always sweeping at me all the way across the States, even little ones. Sometimes I would duck and I’m sure they would laugh. And then I found some wild Gazelle, no not Gazelle, Antelope’ish quick sprinters, and on my first encounter with them in this remote road through the ‘Cowboy Trail’ in Wyoming I slowed down and then they slowed down not making things better until I finally stopped, and then they would go by looking at me at a mild trot. Until after a while and many more K’s did I stop slowing down and so did they until I realised they were gaming me so to speak, just like fish when one is snorkling cause they’re all around you but you can’t touch them and this must be just how they play with themselves, to learn how to beat other creatures. Here’s the link but there are not pictures of the Antelope for I was fending for my life at the time …… the pictures of the ‘Cowboy Trail’ are somewhere in the middle and start with the billboard of the ‘Cowboy Trail’, it’s mostly the red clay stuff.
And the rest of the pictures below are what I speak of today …. transition and renewal … and just plain old life of the varying kind, the ones who hold your values closest to your soul, the ones who roll the dice or spin the wheel or more appropriately like Paulo Cohelo and his characters, toss black and white rocks, searching for those good honest coincidences without looking for such, as though serendipity’s heart is stabbing her own wound while searching for the rest of what is unknown.
